


Dulce Periculum

by SamSnak



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Crushes, Dom/sub, Falling In Love, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamSnak/pseuds/SamSnak
Summary: Bruce and Dick have shared an easy, complementary existence, until one night Bruce catches a scent on the wind that ruins him. He finds himself desperate for the omega he's lived with for years.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 21
Kudos: 438





	Dulce Periculum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potionsmaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/gifts).



> Dick's around 16 or 17.
> 
> Thank you to Potionsmaster for answering so many of my ABO questions and really helping me flesh this out <3
> 
> I eventually want to write a sequel/follow up for this.

The first time Bruce notices it, the two of them are standing on a lonely rooftop in the middle of a cool Gotham autumn. The breeze is active that night, and the scent carried by the wind hits Bruce hard. It stops his train of thought completely.

He’s in the middle of giving Robin an order. Something important, he’s sure, but he loses it part way through.

“Batman?” Dick says. Dick has to be smelling it, too. It’s too potent, too good to miss. It’s turning Bruce on and making him feel a way he hasn’t in years, and he knows that his own pheromones must be starting up, too. That makes him worry because Dick  _ won’t  _ miss that. The boy’s an omega and there’s no way he wouldn’t smell the response of an unbonded Alpha right next to him.

That’s when Bruce realizes that the source of the scent  _ is Dick.  _ It’s the boy standing next to him, looking up at him with those big blue eyes. The boy that follows him off of rooftops and into fires who’s looking up at him and hanging on his every word. 

Dick presented as an omega years ago, and he’s been on suppressants ever since. They’re going to have to have a horrible, awkward chat about this, because either the dosing’s wrong on he’s forgetting to take them because—

“What were you saying?” Dick asks. His lips look so soft—No. 

“I need you to finish reconning below. Stay out of sight and let me know when they make their move.” Batman leaves, turns around without another word and leaves him standing there. He needs to get as far away from the boy as possible. To put some space between his unbridled desire and the temptation of a fresh, unclaimed omega. 

He just needs a moment. Just a few minutes of fresh air to clear his mind and subdue his baser instincts. Robin will be safe from his vantage point, for at least a few minutes. Bruce can free himself in a matter of seconds. It’s no time at all until he’s squeezing himself, thrusting up into his grip and groaning in the privacy of the Batmobile. He comes, and the knot’s uncomfortably full, even with his own grip tight around it. It feels a little like the punishment he deserves for wanting to claim his ward.

His hand’s a poor replacement for an omega’s heat, and that makes him wonder just how tight Dick would be.

Once he’s done, he realizes just what a bad idea it was. If Dick didn’t smell him before, he certainly would now. He’d know the instant he climbed in this sin wagon exactly what Bruce was doing in here. At least it took the edge off, and if nothing else, the pain from his throbbing knot will provide him something else to focus on other than Dick’s  _ smell. _

The rest of their mission goes just as smoothly as he planned. Dick is suspicious, eyes shrewd when Bruce tells him that they’re taking the Batwing home, “Batmobile’s engine’s been running funny.” 

In the end, Dick just shrugs, and he’s mercifully silent on the ride home.

“I hate this part,” Dick complains idly as he climbs out of his seat in the vehicle. He stretches and yawns loudly, “My report’s gonna be real short, just so you know.” 

Bruce clenches his jaw. The scent’s been even stronger since Dick worked up a sweat during the fight, and the confined space and recycled air of the Batwing was almost the end of them both. Dick brushes past him to get to the computers, and it’s a real, concentrated effort not to grab at him like some great ape as he walks away. 

Bruce very deliberately doesn’t follow him. Dick flops into a rolling chair and boots up the computer, “Which note template should I use?”

"Are you still taking your suppressants?" It comes out more curtly than he intends it to.

Dick stops, "You know, I actually can’t remember if I took it this morning."

Bruce sighs. He'll need to ask Alfred to help Dick remember to take it from now on. It's a bit of a relief, to know that nothing has really changed, and that the two of them can go back to normal tomorrow.

Until Dick asks the question Bruce had been hoping he wouldn't.

Dick fidgets, spinning around in the desk chair, "Can you…tell?"

Bruce clenches his jaw, curls his hands into fists until his nails dig into his palm. Tries to focus on the pain from his still-swollen knot. 

Bruce takes a deep breath in to steady himself, then immediately regrets the lung full of pheromones it gets him, "Yes.”

"Oh." Dick swallows, and goes very, very still, "Is that why you...smell like that? Am I doing that to you?"

He  _ did  _ notice. The thought shouldn't thrill Bruce like it does. It shouldn't make his knot throb.

Dick leans forward in the chair, like he’s about to be told some great secret and he’s afraid to miss a word of it. 

He tries to think of a lie, something believable and not so incredibly transparent that this clever boy will see right through, but—"Yes." Bruce says. There's no use lying. 

"Oh." He's silent for an uncomfortably long time, especially since Dick is rarely silent. Bruce needs to go upstairs and get as far away from him as possible. He needs to jerk off and release some of this tension. Pull himself raw until the ability to fuck this omega is gone. 

But Dick takes a deep breath, smelling the air, "You smell...nice," he says eventually. 

Dick  _ likes  _ it. The stupid, primal part of his brain insists that he could have this omega so easily. Have him keening underneath him, spreading his legs and baring his neck in minutes—

No.

"You need to go to bed. I'll finish the reports," Bruce takes a step back. Further away from the boy. Hopes against hope that Dick will take him at face value.

"Bruce," Dick starts, standing up and starting towards him. After all this talk, the thought of Dick enjoying the way he smells, if Dick actually gets within arm’s reach of him, with those lovely, lean legs...it’s over. 

"Go," it's a half-growl. It's all he can manage at this point.

Dick looks pained, disappointed, like Bruce just gave him the greatest blue-balling of his life, "Are you sure?" 

No. "Yes."

Dick finally,  _ finally,  _ turns and goes upstairs. 

He’s barely out of earshot before Bruce is tugging himself and biting his own fist. 

\---

The next morning at breakfast, everything seems normal. The sun still rises, the daily paper still finds its way to the table in the breakfast nook, and Alfred is still the same, unflappable, calming presence.

"I reminded Master Dick of his medication this morning, Sir." 

"Thank you." Finally, a sense of normalcy. 

The two of them enjoy the companionable silence. Bruce drinking his coffee and reading headlines, and Alfred stubbornly refusing to sit down as he busies himself with small tasks. 

Bruce smells him before he sees him. It's the same enchanting, overwhelming smell as last night, and it has the same effect on him, too. It’s even harder now to resist standing, running towards him and catching him like prey. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe through his mouth. He needs to leave as soon as possible, because if Dick walks in here looking half as good as he smells he’s doomed.

_ It will be fine.  _ He’ll go to work and become sufficiently distracted, and Dick can take an extra dose of suppressants, and maybe everything will work itself out. 

“Tell Dick he needs an extra dose,” he says to Alfred on his way out the door. He’ll call from the office to make sure, because Dick really does need to take more suppressants. He can’t go around in public otherwise because—

That's  _ his  _ omega. Dick can't go out into the world smelling like  _ that.  _ Around all those barely controlled, snarling Alpha morons that aren't even worthy of Dick's time. The thought of some inexperienced, rutting highschooler trying to get at Dick, trying to claim what’s  _ rightfully his  _ makes his blood boil and his knuckles turn white over the grip on his steering wheel. 

And isn’t that a disturbing feeling. He rubs a hand over his face and pinches the bridge of his nose hard because what an  _ uncalled for  _ reaction on his part. Dick isn’t his,  _ certainly  _ not in the way that his gut is insisting. But they do need to do something about this situation, because the scent is becoming too much for Bruce to ignore. 

Bruce is tense all day. He snaps at people at random, and a board meeting devolves into a shouting match. At lunch, he snaps a glass in his hand when someone asks him which colleges “his boy” is considering.

By the end of the day, he’s little more than a snarling, hormonal mess. And the thought of going home while he’s still in this  _ state  _ is scary. Alfred's assured him that Dick took his suppressants today, but Bruce cant fight the sinking feeling that he's going to go home and be accosted by the same scent, and, even worse, that this time he won’t be able to hold himself back.

\---

Dick’s already working out in the Cave by the time Bruce gets home. The scent’s still there, simmering away in the background, just like Bruce’s constant arousal. 

As soon as he notices Bruce, Dick stops his routine on the uneven bars and walks over. 

“Hey,” he says, out of breath. His shirt stuck to his chest, damp with sweat, and his arms are glistening from exertion. He’s magnificent.

“Hmn,” Bruce walks towards the lockers to change, and Dick follows.

“How was your day?”

“Dull,” Bruce pulls his shirt off and deliberately doesn’t notice Dick watching intently. He also doesn’t notice Dick’s hot gaze on his back as he turns to pull on his workout shirt. 

“How are you feeling? Last night you were… are you less tense, today?”

He’s getting more so with every passing minute, “I’m fine. We have a lot of leads to follow up on before tonight. Did you find out the name of the bar they mentioned?”

“Of course I did,” Dick sounds offended that he even asked, “But you still look tense,” Dick puts a hand on his shoulder, and Bruce feels something inside him snap.

Suddenly, Dick’s back is against the wall, the air knocked out of him in a huff, and Bruce’s face is buried in the side of his neck. Bruce’s hands are pinning him there, curled around either bicep, and Dick just whimpers. 

“Bruce,” he whines, going a little slack in his grip. He leans his head, baring his neck, and starts shifting his feet to spread his legs, “Yes, Alpha—”

Bruce’s cock is so hard it hurts. He wants to fuck—

Bruce pulls himself away like he’s been burned, takes a few steps back. Dick looks incredible. His lips are red and parted, his legs spread, and Bruce can imagine the slick that’s starting to pool out between his legs. He doesn’t let himself look long. 

He all but runs back upstairs. It’s not a permanent solution—he still needs to patrol later, but he can’t be around Dick right now. He’s mercifully able to avoid Alfred on the way up to his study, and he locks the door behind him.

There’s a pit in his stomach, like he just irrevocably ruined something. It’s an unfamiliar anxiety to him, feeling so absolutely out of control of a situation, at the mercy of his emotions and pheromones. It was never supposed to come to this. Those suppressants were the best on the market, and the doctor had them exactly titrated to Dick. It’s shocking, terrifying, just how quickly all of this unraveled. 

He’s not sure how long he sits in that massive desk chair, hoping some great black hole or random calamity will completely swallow him up, but eventually there’s a small knock at the door.

“Bruce?”

Of course. Dick isn’t some problem that he can just run away from: he’s a real human being, with real emotions, that Bruce just completely violated and  _ assaulted  _ like some common criminal.

This is the comeuppance Bruce needs to face. This is the result of his actions, of his weakness and inadequacy. Dick is probably here to tell him off, to tell him what a massive, inappropriate, absolute  _ creep  _ he is for what he did. 

Bruce smells the air. There’s that scent again. He forces his eyes open, briefly considers what a life of chemical castration might look like, and opens the door.

Dick’s standing there, freshly showered. He doesn’t look particularly angry, like he probably should be, but he does look  _ hungry,  _ almost desperately so  _. _

And this might be his hell, he thinks. Being so close, smelling him and feeling his warmth, looking at that devastatingly handsome face, and not being allowed to have this boy. But he’s not a boy anymore. He’s a young man. A terrifyingly beautiful, dangerous young man, and the full realization of that makes Bruce suppress a shudder. 

“Please, Alpha—” Dick steps forward.

Bruce takes a breath. What a  _ disaster.  _ He means to step back, to put any amount of space between the two of them, but he doesn’t. Then Dick is in his arms, his hands fisting in Bruce’s shirt. It’s all a blur of hormones, and he’s kissing Dick like his life depends on it, and it feels so good that he can’t remember why he shouldn’t be doing this—

Bruce thrusts his hips, once, and Dick whimpers into his mouth at the friction. Bruce lifts him up like he weighs nothing and shuts the door behind them. It’s all spiraling, especially with Dick’s strong, wiry legs around his waist, and Bruce  _ finally  _ gets a handful of his ass.

It’s—fuck—it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. Bruce stumbles the two of them over to the couch and descends on Dick. The couch is creaking under the two of them. Bruce is big enough, but the veracity with which he’s devouring Dick’s mouth and grinding their hips together makes the wood protest.

Bruce turns to his neck. The scent there is so strong. It’s heady, and it makes him feel drunk with arousal. He licks up his neck a long, wet marking stripe, and Dick shudders, “Yes, God.”

Dick slips a hand between the two of them, gripping Bruce’s cock through his pants, and Bruce growls his approval, a low, feral note. 

“Please, I want you so bad,” Dick says. Bruce kisses him again. His lips  _ are  _ every bit as soft as they look, and he tastes as good as he smells. Bruce’s brain is a fog. It’s like all he can think of is how bad he wants to  _ fuck,  _ how much he wants to put his cock in this omega, to fuck him senseless and fill him with his knot until Bruce’s name is the only thing he knows. 

“You’re mine,” Bruce says. He’s not even entirely sure where it comes from. It’s a primal urge that just  _ feels  _ right to say. This omega is his, and he’s going to make sure he knows it.

“Yes, Alpha, please,” Dick spreads his legs wider. He’s so wanton and pliant in his hands. Bruce slides his hands down, snakes around to Dick’s back and slips into the waistband. He’s pouring slick, and it’s so, so easy for Bruce to slip a finger inside.

Dick moans. Bruce can feel the heat rising against him, and he kisses Dick again to soothe him. It doesn’t soothe as much as drive both of them crazier. Bruce’s tongue inside his mouth, finger probing his slick passage, taking him two ways at once. 

The boy starts pulling at his belt buckle and Bruce helps. He’s spent more time than he’d like to admit thinking about how Dick’s hands might feel around his cock, but to actually have it is almost too much. He thrusts into his grip and Dick squeezes, hands tightening like a good little omega, always willing to be used to please his Alpha.

“God, you’re so big,” Dick gasps. Bruce should probably ease his anxiety, promise him that they’ll go slow, but it’s not a promise he can make, not really. Not when the boy is so pliant and eager, giving off pheromones in waves and slick soaking his pants straight through.

“You’re going to take it all,” Bruce says. Dick whimpers and slides his fingers to the base of his cock, against the beginnings of his knot.

Bruce pulls his own pants off quickly, pulling away from the boy just long enough to do so. Dick still reaches after him, tries to pull him back in and wrap his legs around him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bruce assures him, and pulls Dick’s pants off as fast as possible. Dick palms his cock, tugging it the second he’s naked. 

“Please, I need—”

“You’ll get it,” Bruce kisses him. He’s between his legs, and there’s nothing in their way. He should take his time, stretch him out with a few fingers, let him adjust, but he can’t. As soon as Dick wraps his legs around his waist, Bruce has his cock in his hand, guiding it towards his entrance. 

There’s slick  _ everywhere,  _ and one day when Bruce isn’t so desperate himself he’ll eat Dick out until he can’t speak, until he’s nothing but a wound up pile of need beneath him, but that’s for later, because now the heat and pressure surrounding his cock nearly undoes him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Dick’s face. He never wants to forget it, wants to burn it into his memory forever, that incredible mix of pain and pleasure, his hot, perfect mouth parted in a long moan. 

It’s so tight, Bruce is almost afraid it won’t fit. He should probably be worried about that, a decent man would ask if Dick was okay, if it hurt, but he’s so far past being decent, and he can only be sent to hell once. Dick’s not protesting, anyway, and his body is still leaking slick around him, relaxing and taking him further, bit by bit.

Bruce kisses him deeply once he’s fully inside, his lap against Dick’s perfect ass. He forces himself to still, at least for a moment. He should take his time, kiss him languidly and fuck him gently, let him adjust, but he really doesn't have the patience. And he doesn’t need to, because Dick whimpers, squirming his hips in a plea to move, to  _ fuck him,  _ and Bruce doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He pulls out a few inches and slams back in. He can already feel the pressure at the base of his cock. He’s going to knot this omega, to fill him so full that he won’t be able to walk for hours. 

Dick tries to move, tries to meet his thrusts with his hips. And that just won’t do. He doesn’t need any help to ream his omega. Bruce pulls out completely, and Dick howls his disapproval, “No, please, I need your knot,”

“I’m  _ going  _ to knot you, boy,” his own cock throbs at the loss, but he pulls at Dick’s hip, flipping him over onto his stomach and putting a hand on the back of his neck. He smacks his ass, once, because he just can’t help himself, then Bruce is in deep again, enjoying the press of Dick’s ass against his pelvis and reveling in the tight heat. 

Bruce sets a punishing pace, not giving Dick the time to adjust or realize what’s about to happen. If he was worried about the couch before, he’s really worried for it now. The damn thing is creaking under the pace of his thrusts, and it just might break. The next time he fucks his omega into breathlessness, he’ll do it in his bed. 

“Oh, yes,” Dick moans. He’s got his face buried into the fabric, trying to stifle his screams. Bruce wants to  _ hear him.  _

He gets a fist full of his hair and pulls, growls into his ear, “Scream for me, boy. Scream for my knot.”

Dick hesitates for just a second, still trying to hold himself back, then, “Oh, god, yes, knot me, please!”

He lets go of Dick’s hair, dropping his hands to his hips so that he can grip, perfect and tight, and pull Dick back onto him with every thrust. Dick lets himself be used, lets his Alpha use him and take what he wants, takes his cock and moans for it like such a good boy. 

Bruce puts one foot on the floor for leverage, lifts Dick’s hips higher and fucks him harder. Maybe this is what all of that grueling training was for: being able to fuck his omega like he really wants to.

Dick is a mess beneath him. Bruce’s lap is covered in slick and it’s running down the back of Dick’s thighs. The couch will either be a total loss or Bruce will keep it as a private memento of the day he claimed his omega.

“Yes, fuck me,” Dick gets out. It’s broken up by Bruce’s rhythm, each syllable forced out of him as Bruce rails him. He’s getting close, if his pitch and breathing are any indication, and Bruce isn’t too far behind him. He can feel the base of his knot starting to swell.

Bruce finds his teeth against Dick’s neck and he can’t keep himself from sinking them in deep. Dick howls in pain, and Bruce just growls against the skin. That nagging feeling that this is all wrong is totally gone, all replaced by the instinct to  _ claim.  _ This omega is his. And now everyone will know it. 

“Come for me. Come for me and I’ll fill you up with my knot,” Bruce should be worried about the bruises he’s going to leave, about claiming him and a bonding bite and what that means, but he bends over, fucks Dick just right, until his omega comes for him, moaning and shaking apart underneath him.

“Oh, yes, fuck—”

Dick’s weak beneath him, almost limp, atonic—it makes his orgasm that much better. A pressure building up from his groin and overtaking him. The rush of hormones is too much and he’s afraid he’ll blackout from it. 

“Dick,” he groans. He does lose vision, for just a moment, and by the time he gets it back he’s relaxed into Dick’s back, his knot swollen and firmly in place.

He’s catching his own breath, trying to come down from it all. Dick’s got a hand over his back, petting his hair and trying to calm him. Bruce realizes he’s probably crushing the boy, so he pulls him up against his chest and sits them back against the arm of the couch carefully.

They’re both silent. Dick is too relaxed to even consider conversation, and Bruce is tacitly avoiding the elephant in the room: the fact that he’s such a piece of shit that he claimed and bonded for life with his teenaged ward just because the two of them were horny. 

Bruce just tightens his arms around Dick’s chest and places a kiss to his temple. Dick looks like he’s three martinis deep (except he’s too young to drink, Bruce scolds himself, and he’s far, far too young to be bonded). His head’s rolled back against Bruce’s shoulder and his eyelids are heavy. He’s stroking his hands up and down Bruce’s arms. 

Bruce shifts a little so that he can look at the bite, careful not to disturb Dick. Maybe he can still un-ruin this, at least partially, maybe the bite wasn’t deep enough to be permanent. There’s a horrible, selfish part of him that deeply hopes that it is, because the idea of Dick leaving him is  _ devastating.  _ But his conscience, the part that’s slowly trying to swim its way up out of the sea of hormones that it’s been drowning in for days, knows that it’s better if it’s not, if Dick has the chance to leave and choose his own mate. He’s too young, far too young to be mating for life. 

But none of that really matters, anyway, once Bruce gets a good look at it. Because the bite is smeared with blood. It’s permanent. 

Dick’s in that somnolent place between sleep and arousal, so now might not be the best time to discuss the fact that they’re bonded for life, but Bruce knows that it’s going to be a conversation they’ll have to have, sooner or later.

For now, it’s easy enough to ignore the nagging feelings pulling at his mind in favor of the warm weight of his dozing mate in his arms.

  
  
  



End file.
